The Perfect Gift
by Kooro
Summary: What do you get someone who has the power to get anything he wanted? Peter Burke had no idea. What do you get someone who wanted nothing more than what he already had? Neal Caffrey had no idea. Bromantic Christmas fic about finding the perfect gift.
1. Peter's Dilemma

**CONTEST TIME: All right readers, I need your help. As you may have noticed, this story is without a title. I have no idea what to name it. That's where you come in. Read a chapter or two and let me know what you think is a good title for this story. I'll choose the one I think best suits the story and shall entitle it as such and will announce the winner. I really do need your help for this one so please give me your ideas. Thanks.**

**._._._._._._.**

_Chapter 1:_

What do you get someone who has the power to get anything he wanted?

Peter Burke had no idea.

Peter glanced at the small calendar on his desk and was reminded of the short amount of time left before Christmas. And he had yet to get a gift for one of the most important people in life.

His friend and partner, Neal Caffrey.

Of course, there was no rule claiming that he had to get the ex-convict anything. If he wanted to, he could just watch the numbers on his calendar change until the bold font read **25** and feel not the least bit concerned that he didn't exchange a gift with his consultant. If he wanted to, he could choose not to worry of feel anxious about deciding what gift to get or to go through the hassle of shopping to find the perfect gift for Neal.

But he didn't want to.

There are certain things friends do for one another and one of them was to get a gift for that friend for Christmas. Neal was Peter's friend and Peter damned sure was going to get him a gift. The kid deserved it. Besides, sometimes a prettily wrapped box topped with a bright bow could say words Peter didn't feel comfortable saying or words that his pride wouldn't let him speak. Like: _Thanks for all your hard work._ Or, _good job for keeping clean._ Or, most importantly, _I'm proud of you._

A present represented much more than the tradition of gift-giving at Christmas. Sure, in the days of youth, Christmas was only about the presents; getting the most expensive gadget, something to show off to the other kids. But as the juvenile and superficial slipped away with age, gifts became to mean more than a contest. Gifts were symbols of love; tokens of gratitude. Gifts were bought with the thought of the person: what they could use; what would make them happy.

And Peter wanted to make Neal happy. The poor kid had had it rough, what with the death of a loved one and having spent the previous four years in jail and the three before that on the run. Peter wanted to get something that would bring back the old shine in Neal's eyes and a genuine smile on his face.

But what?

Neal had the charm to con someone to get him what he wanted and the skill to steal it if charm failed. He lived in a wealthy house with a wealthy and kind widow. He donned expensive and fashionable suits and drank the finest wine and coffee New York had to offer. He took his breakfast out on the balcony with the fantastic view of the city as his guest. He had looks that could seduce any woman and the silver tongue that could control any conversation. He had a smile that could melt hearts and eyes that could capture souls. He had the talent to conjure any picture he could think of onto a white canvas. He had resources that could get him any information he required.

He had everything.

And yet, he had so little.

It's not always the objects acquired within a lifetime that makes life worthwhile, but the people that share that life and make it worth living.

Peter didn't know anything about Neal's parents: where they were, how they treated Neal, or even if they were alive. The only woman Neal truly and sincerely loved was dead. There was only one person in the whole world Neal truly and sincerely trusted with a second close behind.

Neal could have whatever he wanted. But that was just it. He had every_thing_. That was all he had. Things. What good are things that can't be shared with another? What good was it to have everything but to be alone?

And to add salt to the wound, Neal didn't even have his freedom. He was trapped within a two-mile radius of the FBI building and if he overstepped that boundary, he was chased down, arrested, and risked a trip back to jail.

All that taken into account, Peter really wanted to get Neal something worth having; not just another item to be thrown onto the pile with the many countless others. Peter wanted to get Neal something that mattered to the ex-con. Something memorable.

Peter blinked as the idea came to him.

He knew what he wanted to get Neal.

Peter glanced at the office where his boss sat, working diligently. Now all he had to do was convince Hughes to go along with his plan.

**._._._._._._.**

**I'm sure you've all just been diagnosed with diabetes from all the sweetness. **

**While we may know what a gift is supposed to mean, we may still care more about what the gift is rather than what it means. Let's just pretend that, in this story, what a gift represents means more than what the gift is. The real world's a little different. **

**Anyway, please enlighten me about a title for this fic if you're so inclined. Thanks. **

**Until next time,  
Hobey-Ho**


	2. Neal's Dilemma

**I decided to post the second chapter early so that you can get a better feel for the story and possibly a better feel for a potential title. **

**I've also decided that the due date for offering your idea for a title will be Sunday, December 19, 2010 at the end of the day. On Monday, I shall announce the winner I have chosen and entitle this story with the name the winner gave. **

**I like it when I get my readers involved and, I don't know, experience has led me to the conclusion that you guys like to be involved. Just my assumption. **

**Anywho, go on and read and if inspiration for a possible title hits, go on and tell me. Thanks again guys for your help. It is much appreciated.**

**._._._._._._.**

_Chapter 2:_

What do you get someone who wanted nothing more than what he already had?

Neal Caffrey had no idea.

Neal stared at the calendar that hung on the wall near his dresser. He tapped his fingers against the wineglass in his hands thoughtfully as he counted the days left before Christmas. Not much. He was running out of time to find a gift. He only needed one more person to get a gift for but this person was by far one of the most important on his short list.

His friend and partner, Peter Burke.

Then again, he didn't really need to get a gift for the FBI agent. Wasn't working with him and solving the mysteries of crime enough? It wasn't like he had given any Christmas presents to Peter in the past, what with running from him for three years and being in jail for another four. He didn't need to make exchanging Christmas presents an annual thing.

But he wanted to.

Neal wanted to be part of the Christmas tradition in which friends and family exchanged Christmas gifts. He hadn't had friends and family worth celebrating with in a long time. When he had been on the run with Kate, anything they gave each other had to be left behind when the FBI got too close. They could only take what fit in a bag. Neal wanted to be part of the festivities of Christmas; part of the family of the White Collar division, and part of Peter's family tradition. And exchanging gifts at Christmas was one of the perks of being a part of a family.

He wanted to get Peter a gift because a present, no matter how simple or inexpensive, meant much more than what the gift actually was. What mattered was what the gift represented. When he had celebrated Christmas with Kate before being on the run, their meager amount of money had prevented them from getting elaborate and expensive gifts for each other. Neal could usually only offer a handmade picture and Kate could only afford a bottle of wine.

But that's what made the gifts so special. Neal made Kate a beautiful painting with all the colors void in whatever small apartment they had rented at the time. He made another world for her: one of absolute beauty and purity with the promise of perpetual warmth and peace. When she saw the painting, her eyes glistened and her smile brightened until she shone with a beauty that no painting could match. And the bottle of wine was shared in front of that painting while the two gazed at each other with gratitude and admiration.

It didn't matter if a gift was expensive or not. All that matter was that it brought happiness.

And Neal wanted to make Peter happy. The agent deserved it.

The present could serve as an apology for all the grief and worry Neal caused. It could serve as a thank you for all that Peter had done for the ex-con. And it would be a failsafe. If – or rather, when – Peter gave his gift to Neal, Neal would be able to return the favor with his own gift so he wouldn't feel embarrassed about receiving a gift without giving one.

But what could he give that would bring Peter happiness or be useful to the agent?

While Peter often exhibited jealously towards the high class life Neal led, he never acted on his feelings. Because he was happy with what he had. He told Neal so on several occasions.

He had a beautiful wife whom he loved and adored and who he could actually watch sports with. He had a trusty hound to sit at his feet and finish his dinner. He had a house, a job, and a stable income to pay taxes with and to keep his family feed and well. He had friends he could go to if needed help.

What more did he need?

A trip for him and El maybe? But that would be a little too expensive. Sure, Neal could charm a travel agent or borrow some money from a bank but he was sure Peter would prefer a gift bought with the money from Neal's own wallet rather than money illegally attained from a bank vault.

Neal sighed as he bowed his head onto the table in defeat. He had no idea what to get his friend for Christmas. For a moment, Neal just listened to the distant sound of a ticking clock.

And then an idea hit him. Neal straightened as if the idea had physically hit him and he rocked back slightly in his chair from the impact. Disregarding his unfinished wine, Neal stood and paced outside onto the balcony.

He had been going about this all wrong. He was trying to find a way to make Peter happy with something that he could actually give to the agent. What he should have been thinking about was what already made Peter happy and work with that.

And what made Peter happy? Elizabeth. If El was happy, Peter was happy.

What could bring more happiness to Peter than time spent with his wife?

He knew what he wanted to get Peter.

Without another thought, Neal turned on his heel, grabbed a coat to ward off the wintery cold and headed downstairs and out into the city.

**._._._._._._.**

**If you noticed, I made the thought process of Neal and Peter similar because I like to illustrate just how much they think alike. **

**Some more sweetness for ya, as if you haven't had enough. But I hope you liked it. **

**The ideas have been planted. Now they just need to be acted upon. You'll have to wait a bit longer to see what the gifts actually are. Ha. Fear my cliffhangers.**

**Anyway, I'm always ready and willing to hear your comments about this fic and all constructive criticism serves to only make my writing better. **

**Merry ChrismaHanaKwanzakkah to you all!**

**Hobey-Ho**


	3. Peter's Victory

**As promised, here I am on this rainy Monday morning to post another chapter and to announce the title that I will give to my story. **

**Before that though, I would like to thank everyone who offered their ideas. They were all good but, as I can only name my story one thing, I could not choose them all. I did choose the title that I thought best suited this story and what is to come later. Your ideas were all read and thought about and, again, I thank you so much for volunteering to help me out.**

**In the end, I narrowed down the participants to two titles:**

**Something Worth Having**** by govgal  
****The Perfect Gift**** by silverfoxanimagus**

**I had a hard time choosing one over the other but my decision has been made. From now on, this story shall be entitled:**

**._._._._._._._.**

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 3:_

"Absolutely not."

Peter faltered against the direct denial.

He sank back into the chair that had been offered to him. Contrarily, Hughes had risen to his feet and now stared down at his agent, his hands flat against his desk as he tilted forward in an authoritative stance. His hard eyes bore into Peter, the wrinkles around that determined gaze mutating the refusal into a threat against arguing further.

But Peter wasn't about to back down so easily.

"He's got nowhere to go."

"That doesn't mean he won't run."

Peter paused, the thoughts in his head trying to find a rebuttal. But Hughes spoke the truth.

"True," Peter finally sighed in resignation. "But," he met Hughes' stare with his own unwavering gaze, "He won't."

"And how do you know that?" Hughes asked, easing back to cross his arms over his chest. "Past experience has taught us that every time we took off Neal's tracker, he ran off on his own agenda."

"But he came back," Peter offered defensively.

Hughes scrutinized Peter with a renewed glare but didn't argue against him. But he was clearly looking for a better explanation and proof.

"Look," Peter started, his gaze softening in a submissive manner to prove that he had no intention to overrule Hughes. He did however mean to make his point and try to persuade his boss, "you've known Neal for a good two years or so. He's worked hard for us and plenty of bad guys are currently behind bars because of him. He's gone out of his way to get the job done. Yes, he did run off almost every time we removed the tracker but he always came back."

Peter paused long enough to let his words sink in. Hughes' glare lessened.

"And I've known him even longer. I've known him since I started chasing him. I respected him then and I do even more so now. He's a good kid. While he may not tell me everything going on in that head of his, he tells me enough to keep me up-to-date with his antics. He answers the questions I ask and keeps me involved when I want him to. He's earned this."

"And you know he's telling the truth?" Hughes asked skeptically.

"Enough." Peter admitted. Hughes raised a brow.

"Neal keeps his cards close to his chest and there are some things he refuses to tell even me," Peter's gaze flickered to the side as snapshots of several memories replayed in his mind about secrets Neal had kept from him. Secrets he had learned about the hard way, "but he doesn't withhold anything that might cause harm to others."

Hughes sighed as he lowered into his chair to match Peter's eye level. His eyes searched Peter's where he saw the truth gleaming brightly in his agent's eyes. He sighed again and folded his hands professionally before him.

"Do you trust him?"

Peter blinked. The question caught him by surprise and he looked down at his own hands folded in his lap to collect his thoughts.

Neal had given him plenty of reasons not to trust him in the past. Back when they first started working together as agent and consultant, they both kept secrets from each other. They both doubted the other and did a lot of teamwork alone because they didn't trust the other to pull through.

But then things changed. Peter wasn't sure when it happened but he believed that the amount of respect and admiration they had for the other helped.

And suddenly, they were partners, working together flawlessly to solve whatever crime dared to cross their path. Secrets were still kept but then everyone has a personal life they liked to keep separate from the rest of the world; skeletons in the closet. But when they needed to, they shared that which they would tell no other, because they trusted each other and they knew that when a promise was made, it was generally kept.

But did he trust Neal enough to give him the gift he was willing to offer?

Peter met Hughes' eyes and the older man straightened under the intensity of that gaze.

"Yes."

Hughes held Peter's resolute gaze. Then he bowed his head with a soft chuckle. "All right," he said as he lifted his gaze once more to smile at Peter. "I'll send the request. I'll tell them it's for some mission or other."

Peter sagged in relief. "Thank you."

"One day." Hughes said, holding up his index finger to emphasize his order.

"One day," Peter nodded graciously.

"Now get out of my office."

**._._._._._._._.**

**Thanks again to you all for helping me find a title and congrats to s****ilverfoxanimagus for winning the contest.**

**Next is Neal's chapter. What will he do you ask? Well, you'll have to wait until next time to find out. I might post a chapter every day until Christmas or it might go a little over until the end of December. I don't know. Either way,**

**Until next time.**

**Hobey-Ho **


	4. Neal's Victory

**Here's another installation of my White Collar Christmas fic. I'm glad you're all enjoying it so far. Thanks for all the reviews and favs. They're all little early Christmas presents to me. **

**._._._._._._._.**

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 4:_

"Sure thing, pal. Anything for you."

Neal blinked. Well, that was unexpectedly easy.

"Are you sure?" Neal asked, still trying to recover. He had been ready to fight for his request but found that even though he was ready to push against the wall with all his strength, the wall turned out to be made of cardboard and now his stored momentum was causing him to stagger forward in surprise.

Martin Watkins just smiled at Neal. The man looked as if he were training to become a temp Santa. He had a bulging stomach that vibrated with his hearty chuckle. His muscled arms strained against his hand-knitted sweater and his calloused hands rubbed together to keep warm. On his graying head was a heavy hat with a bright yellow ball of fluff on top. He was growing a beard to complete the jolly look and his blue eyes sparkled against cheeks red from the cold.

"No trouble at all. It's the least I can do for you. You and you're FBI friend got Navarro off my tail. Thanks to you I can show my face in public. And look at me," Martin gestured to himself and the small ticket booth he operated, "I actually got myself a job. My kids are gonna get a Christmas this year."

Neal smiled at his old fence. The poor man had had the unfortunate experience of serving as one of Navarro's mules to traffic drugs around New York City. When Navarro had changed his expertise to weapons instead of drugs, the crime lord had decided that he would start on a fresh slate and erase his past of handling drugs.

And erasing that past meant erasing everyone that had been involved with it. Martin had been one of the few to successfully go into hiding but he had a family to look after and staying off Navarro's radar had been tough for everyone.

Martin was a good man and his optimistic demeanor was infectious. Neal had kept in touch with Martin while he was in hiding but the two had lost all contact once Neal went on the run. But once Neal had teamed up with the FBI, he managed to find Martin with the help of NYPD intelligence. And now that Navarro was behind bars, Martin was finally able to come out in the open and the two had reestablished their friendship.

It was easy to visit Martin because he worked the ticket booth at a private ice-skating park that a rich architect created, owned, and operated. It was actually pretty popular and well attended due to the stunningly peculiar architecture and gardens that surrounded the frozen pond. It was even more beautiful during the spring when the flowers were in bloom. During that time, kids flocked to the pond to watch the ducks skate in the water.

"Are you going to get in trouble?" Neal asked tentatively. He didn't want his friend to get fired and have to go looking for another job at Christmas time.

"Naw," Martin scoffed with a wave of his hand. "Mr. Mosby won't mind if I ask. He and I get along pretty well. He's even invited my family to join him for Christmas dinner."

Neal chuckled, his breath forming a white plume of air despite being inside the ticket booth. It wasn't a surprise that Martin befriended the architect. Infectious optimism. It was hard to not like the guy.

"I'll fix you up a nice spot. Just how you want. No problem."

"Thanks Marty," Neal said, beaming with excitement and gratitude. He held up his hand and Martin gripped it in a hearty handshake.

"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do."

"That's what you keep saying."

"I mean it."

Neal smiled warmly and gave Martin's hand one last shake before parting. "Then I'll see you on the twenty-fifth," he announced as he pulled up the collar of his coat and opened the door. A gust of wind blew swirls of snow inside and Neal shivered. He quickly stepped outside, not wanting to let in too much of the cold and was about to close the door when Martin called his name.

"What?" Neal asked, moving his head back inside.

"Just one day," Martin clarified, holding up one finger to emphasize his point. "I don't want to ask Mr. Mosby for more. He won't like the idea of losing profit.

"One day," Neal repeated dutifully with a flash of his smile.

Martin grinned back. "Now get out of my office. God, how I've wanted to say that again."

**._._._._._._.**

**Now I'm sure many of you have already figured out what Peter is giving Neal. And let me just say that all the ideas that came together to form this fic were my own. I've noticed that some other writers have the same idea for their fics but no idea was copied. Creative minds just think alike I guess.**

**Anyway, can you figure out what Neal is giving to Peter? If you do have an idea, you'll have to wait to see how Neal pulls off his gift and the reactions of each. **

**As for martin Watkins, I kind of wanted to write a little "blurb" about him. You know how sometimes you make a character – and it doesn't have to even be a main character – and you just take an instant liking to it. Well, I really like how Martin came out. He's just this happy guy who makes you happy just by reading about him. **

**And speaking of Martin, if you remember, Navarro used to be a Columbian drug dealer and then switched to weapons. Thanks to the USA website for reminding me so that I could correctly use Navarro in this fic. Just thought I'd mention that.**

**So, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next one.**

**Hobey-Ho**


	5. A Gift for Neal

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 5:_

"All right agents, and Neal," Peter announced, glancing pointedly at his consultant. Neal just rolled his eyes amiably in response, "this case is done. Good job everyone. Time to pack up and go home."

A chorus of grateful murmurs sounded from the tired agents as they rose from the conference table in unison, chairs skidding against the tiled floor and files being shut with the flutter of paper.

It had been a long day and everyone was eager to get out, go home, and wait for Christmas morning. Even the ones who didn't celebrate the holiday still awaited it and took advantage of the day off.

"Happy holidays," Peter called – to be politically correct – after his fellow agents as they trotted down the stairs to the ground level of the White Collar division office to go to their desks and get their belongings. Several "happy holidays" rose up from the agents as jackets were shrugged into and hats and gloves put on. Peter stayed on the upper level to watch them go, a faint smile on his lips as his friends waved their goodbyes and slowly filed out of the office.

Only one other person resisted the temptation of immediate departure.

"Any plans for Christmas?" Neal asked as the consultant ambled up to stand beside Peter. He leaned forward to rest his forearms against the railing and lightly clasped his fingers together as his eyes roamed over the departing agents with Peter's.

"No," Peter sighed as he placed both hands on the railing. "Not me anyway."

Peter noticed Neal turned his head to face him out of his peripheral vision. The younger man's brow was furrowed in confusion and apology. "Elizabeth?"

Peter sighed again and was unable to keep the bitter sadness out of his voice. "She has a brunch to cater to. She'll be done in time for dinner but I won't see her in the morning."

Neal didn't move and seemed to be waiting for Peter to make eye contact but when Peter refused, Neal looked away again.

"Sorry."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "It's her job. And she enjoys it."

"But you don't," Neal amended knowingly, his voice soft.

"No," Peter admitted with deflation. "We've both been so busy lately. I thought that we could finally relax and spend Christmas together but…" Peter allowed the sentence to fade away. Neal already knew what he was going to say anyway.

The younger man nodded sympathetically.

The two didn't speak as they watched the last remaining agents slip out into the hall. The elevator chimed softly and the metal doors creaked open and close. Then it was silent.

"So," Peter said suddenly, dissipation the quiet. He looked at Neal expectantly, "you have any plans?"

Neal met Peter's gaze and his eyes flickered uncertainly for a moment as if he wanted to say something but was unsure how it would be taken. He opened his mouth, thought about it, then closed it again. "Nope," he said instead.

Peter tilted his head quizzically at him but Neal had already straightened and was sauntering down the stairs.

"Then let me suggest you make some."

Neal paused and looked back at Peter with obvious bemusement. Peter just smiled and walked down the stairs to stand before Neal.

"I figured I should give this to you now so you can still make plans for tomorrow," Peter explained as he carefully pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

Neal stared hard at the envelope, unsure what to make of it. He lifted his gaze back to Peter, waiting for an explanation.

"Neal," Peter started in the same way a speech is given, "You've grown a lot this past year. You've really worked hard as my CI and at staying on the straight and narrow."

Neal fidgeted, his eyes slipping to the side in a self-conscious fashion. Peter paused just long enough to smile at Neal's modest embarrassment.

"You've made a good life for yourself and you helped a lot of people," Peter continued, his smile growing, "You've earned the respect of the agents here and the friendships they offer. And my trust."

Peter paused again. Neal was looking at him, eyes wide and surprised.

"So, on behalf of the FBI's White Collar Division and thanks to Hughes' signature, I present you with this gift." Peter extended the envelope to Neal. "Good job, Neal. I'm proud of you."

Neal cautiously accepted the envelope from Peter, his eyes searching those of his partner's. Receiving no answer from Peter's warm smile, Neal turned his attention to the envelope and tore through the seal.

I single key with a small note attached to it slipped out into his open palm. Neal shifted his gaze to Peter with quizzical anxiety. Peter was sure he had already recognized the key, seeing as he had stolen it once before.

Neal lifted the note with careful fingers and read it aloud: "To Neal. You have been given the day, December 25, 2010, free of your anklet. Merry Christmas."

Neal seemed frozen to the spot; completely silent as he read the note again and perhaps again. Peter wasn't sure. At last, the younger man looked up at Peter. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Peter enthused as he moved to stand beside Neal and slapped an arm around his shoulders. "You've earned it. Oh, but in case anyone asks, you're on a job. And don't get any ideas, Mr. Bourne. Someone is monitoring your anklet. They'll know when and where you take it off and when and where you put it back on at the end of your twenty-four hours.

"And know this," Peter paused dramatically, pointing a threatening finger at Neal. He was, of course, unable to suppress his grin, "if I need to, I WILL catch you again."

He was too busy feigning intimidation that he was caught off-guard when Neal twisted under his arm to grip him in a hug. Peter froze in the awkward position of having both hands hovering in the air while Neal's forehead pressed against Peter's shoulder.

"Thank you."

The words were spoken with such fierce gratitude for such a soft whisper.

Peter would never know, but Neal was thanking him for much more than a day free of his anklet, allowing him to go wherever he wanted. Peter had included him in the family tradition of giving a gift at Christmas. He had said that he had trusted him. And, most importantly, he had said that he was proud of Neal. Those words were a gift in itself.

Neal pulled away just as Peter's arms were settling around him. He sniffed and turned away to wipe a hand over his eyes as Peter adjusted his suit embarrassedly. When the two were composed, they looked back at each other, chuckling about the other's reaction.

"So you like it?" Peter asked.

Neal nodded, gripping the key tightly in his fist. "Yeah. Thanks."

Peter bowed his head. "Good. Now, time for you to head home."

"Yeah," Neal agreed, unable to think of much else beside the blunt object in his hand. "Merry Christmas, Peter."

"Merry Christmas, Neal."

Neal offered his friend a last dazzling smile and then plucked his hat and coat from his desk. Backing away from Peter, he twirled his hat in his fingers and placed it on his head, smiling the whole time. Then he spun on his heel and sauntered to the elevator.

Peter shook his head and turned to head back up to his office to get his own things. He wanted to get home and spend the rest of the night with Elizabeth to savor her company while he still had it.

"Oh, Peter," Neal called back suddenly.

Peter turned to find his partner grinning mischievously back at him from the hall.

"Don't make any plans tomorrow."

With that said, Neal sidestepped into the elevator and vanished from sight as the sound of the closing doors drifted to Peter.

Peter could only stare at the spot where Neal had stood.

Well, that was the definition of enigmatic.

**._._._._._._.**

**Since Peter's gift was given on the twenty-fourth of December, I wanted to post on the twenty-fourth. I posted later than I would have liked but I had to write this chapter amongst several interruptions, one of them being spending an hour to watch two episodes of "How I met Your Mother." Man, I love that show.**

**Due to the fact that this chapter **_**was**_** written hastily, there may be a typo here or there. If you find one, please let me know so that I can fix it ASAP. Thanks. **

**So, tomorrow's Christmas. I hope you get all that you asked for or at least what makes you happy. Enjoy time spent with family, even if you may not get along so well. They're still family, and, in the long run, they're the ones that are always going to be a part of your life. **

**Merry Christmas guys (for those you celebrate). I guess this fic will be continuing until the end of December. Oh well. No complaints from me. **

**Until next time,**

**Hobey-Ho**


	6. Christmas Cards

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 6:_

Peter finally clicked the television off and sank deeper into his couch with an exasperated sigh. Without the distracting sounds of the game, the house felt oddly quiet and empty.

He looked at the clock to see that barely an hour more had passed. It was nearing noon and he had exhausted all of his activities.

Elizabeth had left around six in the morning to drive to the brunch's location. She had a lot to set up and food to prepare. So, she had kissed Peter goodbye, ordered him not to touch any of the present until her return, and then went out to her waiting taxi.

With nothing else to do, Peter slept in until restlessness took over. He ate cold cereal with his coffee for breakfast and numbly shifted through the channels on tv, finding a few games that couldn't quite entice his full attention. Every once and a while, he glanced at the decorated tree in the corner and the wrapped presents waiting invitingly beneath it before turning away again with a sigh. Satchmo offered an occasional apologetic look and a wag of his tail whenever Peter sighed before putting his head down again to go back to sleep.

"You just going to sleep until Mom comes home?" Peter asked dejectedly; somewhat envious of the dog's talent for avoiding boredom.

Satchmo blinked one eye at Peter, huffed a matter-of-fact breath, and then closed his eye once more.

"Of course you are," Peter grumbled. "Why did I even ask?"

Another endless minute passed when Satchmo suddenly lifted his head to stare intently at the front door. Curious, Peter followed the dog's gaze as the sound of letters being dropped into a mailbox drifted from the front door.

"Mail's here," Peter announced as he rose from the couch. Satchmo wagged his tail as Peter crossed the room and went to the front door. He quickly went outside, the cold instantly taking advantage of the fact that Peter was only dressed in his slacks and a shirt, retrieved the mail and rushed back into the warmth indoors provided.

"Let's see," Peter mused as he flipped through the letters and advertisements. He paused when a white envelope labeled only with his name caught his eye.

Placing the other letters onto the table, Peter ripped the seal open and pulled out a card. On the front was a hand-drawn picture of a man and woman heavily dressed in coats walking arm-in-arm down a snow-paved sidewalk. The elaborate details made the picture look almost like an actual photograph. Peter new who the artist was by that fact alone.

Smiling, Peter opened the card. Inside, written in perfect flowing calligraphy was a single sentence.

_Get ready and dress warm._

Peter looked at the front of the card again and then flipped it over. But there was nothing else written. Peter stared hard at the card, searching for futher explanation. But then again, it was Neal who sent it. Being enigmatic was his specialty.

Putting his trust in the odd command, Peter put the card down and then went upstairs to his bedroom. He quickly changed into a pair of jeans, a white undershirt, a plain sweater, and then his heavy coat. He slipped a pair of gloves into the deep pockets of the coat and his wallet in the other, just in case. Lastly, a scarf was draped loosely around his neck, the ends hanging down to his waist. Satisfied that he would be warm while out in the cold, Peter returned to the living room.

And the mailbox creaked again as its lid was opened.

Peter shot a curious glance at Satchmo but the dog only opened his mouth in a doggy grin.

Peter went to the mailbox once more, the cold now disappointed of his change in attire, and pulled out a single letter. His name was written in precisely the same way as the last. His curiosity and confusion growing, Peter opened the envelope to reveal another card with an ornate drawing of a man and woman riding together in a horse-drawn carriage.

Inside was the sentence: _Go outside._

Peter looked at Satchmo and the dog wagged his tail encouragingly.

"All right," Peter conceded. "But no parties while the parents are gone." Satchmo just yawned.

Peter chuckled as he placed the second card next to the first and then stepped outside, locking the door behind him. He stood on the steps for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets to fend off the cold. His eyes scanned the empty street. Not a whole lot of activity going on during the afternoon on Christmas day. Most sane people would be together with family or attending church, not shivering in front of their house because a card had told them to.

A minute passed and Peter was being to feel increasingly stupid. He was about to turn and go back inside when a cab pulled up in front of the house. The window rolled down and then Elizabeth was looking out at him.

Peter froze to the spot, stunned and amazed that his wife was sitting in a cab instead of attending the brunch. "El?" he called out in disbelief.

His wife beamed at him and waved her hand in a beckoning motion. Peter hurried down the steps and to the cab. "What are you doing here so early?" he asked. She wasn't supposed to be back until the evening.

"Get inside," El said instead of giving an answer. "It's freezing out there."

Peter gratefully obeyed. He trotted around to the other side of the cab and slipped inside. Elizabeth was dressed as warmly as he with a thick stylish jacket over her sweater. Black gloves protected her hands while a red scarf curled around her neck. A knitted hat rested on her head, the sides coming down to keep her ears warm. There was also a tray with two coffees and a white envelope in her hands.

"What's going on?" Peter asked with concern. "Did something happen?"

El shook her head and pulled a card out of her pocket. "I got this," she said, handing the card to Peter.

Peter took it, a smile tugging at his lips at the familiar artwork. A picture of a house aglow with soft light peeked out of a snowy night. A decorated tree was visible from one of the windows. Through the drawing was only shades of black and white, Peter could almost see the festive colors.

"Neal?"

"Neal," Elizabeth concurred.

Peter opened the card to see the flawless calligraphy of Neal's writing.

_Time to go home._

Peter looked up at Elizabeth quizzically. "But what about the brunch?"

"As soon as I read the letter, another event planner showed up and said she could take over and that I could leave."

"Why was there suddenly an event planner?" Peter asked skeptically.

El shrugged. "She said she was doing a favor for someone."

Peter and El exchanged glances and then they both smiled.

"And," El added dramatically, "she gave me coffee for the two of us. And this." El picked up the envelope and handed it to Peter. "It's for you."

Peter took the envelope, surprise still showing despite having received two surprise letters prior. Sure enough, his name was written majestically on the envelope.

He opened it without delay and he and El stared in awe at the picture of children skating around a huge Christmas tree fully decorated in tinsel, lights, and ornaments.

He opened the card reverently.

_Go here:_

"The Architect's Garden?" Peter read aloud.

"Right away, mister," the cab driver piped up.

El and Peter gave a start as the cab lurched forward away from the curb and started to accelerate down the street.

"Wait a minute," Peter exclaimed as he fumbled with his seatbelt. "Where are we going?"

"The Architect's Garden," the driver replied dutifully.

El and Peter looked at each other in bemusement.

"Neal?" El guessed with a smile.

"Neal."

OoOoO

As the cab drove off down the street while thick clouds full of water swirled overhead and the sun peeked through with individual rays of light, a single figure stepped out of the shadows: the only witness of the cab's departure.

Neal watched the cab travel further away, the faded yellow slowly melting away into the distance.

There, he had done it.

He had partaken in a family event: the exchanging of Christmas gifts. It was what he had wanted.

But then why did he still feel empty? Where was the warm joy that had previously filled him when Peter had given him his gift and when he had seen Peter's face upon seeing Elizabeth?

He knew the answer.

He had joined the Burke family tradition of gift-giving and now he was watching his family drive away while he stayed behind.

When Peter had asked him what his plans were, he had thought about asking to join whatever Peter's plans were. Instead he has simply said no. It would have been selfish to intrude on Peter and Elizabeth's gift. He had given it solely to them. It wouldn't have been right if he had asked to tag along. Sure they would have said yes. Well, Elizabeth would have and Peter would begrudgingly agree, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that his gift to Peter was time with Elizabeth. He wasn't going to take that away because he had nothing else to do.

Neal sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. The cab turned a corner and vanished from sight. Neal turned away from the now empty street and walked slowly back down the way he had come, conscious of the strange absence of weight on his ankle.

He had half a day left. What was he going to do?

**._._._._._._.**

**Poor Neal. Hopefully he'll find something to do. Maybe Mozzie's around. You'll have to wait to see what happens to our favorite ex-con.**

**So, Christmas is over and this fic is still going. And it's probably going to keep going past December. I am currently a little more distracted now. One of my gifts was the first "Assassin's Creed" so I'm playing that until I'm commanded to stop by my parental unit. It's a cool game and the graphics are beautiful. There's also this move called the "Leap of Faith" in which you jump from an incredibly tall height to land in a pile of hay. Sometimes watching Altair jump like that makes my stomach flip. It's a long way down. **

**So, until next time and Hobey-Ho**


	7. The Architect's Garden

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 7:_

The cab slowed and rolled to a stop in front of a short wall topped with ornate spikes that provided fashion more than protection. In fact, the spikes were currently coated in green paint with tinsel to look like miniature Christmas trees. The wall itself was one large painting. It looked as if someone had given the neighborhood kids a box of paints and spray cans and said "Have at it!" Pictures formed from pictures and when one looked close, they could see individual pictures but at a distance, everything merged into one large picture.

"The Architect's Garden," the driver announced.

Peter and El looked out the window, examining the wall that curved around the unknown property on the other side and the locked metal gate that interrupted the painting a short distance away. They exchanged a quizzical glance and then filed out of the cab.

"How much?" Peter asked, digging his wallet out of his pocket in preparation to pay.

"Oh, nothing for you, Agent Burke," the driver said. "I just need to give you this."

Peter looked up from his wallet to stare oddly at the driver as an envelope was extended to him. He took it slowly with slight disbelief that there was yet another card. He raised his gaze once more to try and get a good look at the driver that knew his name but before he could, the tinted window rolled up and the car rumbled away.

"Well that's something you don't see every day," Elizabeth commented as she came up to stand beside Peter.

"What? A cab driver not taking money or a cab driver giving me a card?"

"Both."

Peter chuckled and looked down at the envelope that was, as expected, labeled with his name.

"Go on, open it," Elizabeth said excitedly. "All these letters, they're like clues for a treasure hunt."

Peter smiled down at his wife and flicked the envelope open. A card decorated with a picture of a tree void of its leaves but layered in snow stared back at him. Inside were two tickets for the Architect's Garden.

_Knock on the gate to the tune of "Jingle Bells."_ It read.

El took the letter from Peter as he examined the tickets. She looked up and locked her sights on the metal gate. "Come on," she squealed, pulling Peter towards the gate.

They stopped in front of it and Elizabeth leaned towards it, her gaze flickering over the park and ice rink inside. A tall pine tree adorned with tinsel and ornaments stood proudly in the middle of the frozen pond, much like it had in a previous card Neal had given Peter. A few benches loomed on the sidelines, quiet patches of individual gardens circled around the rink, small gazebos stood in the snow, and more land stretched out behind the tree.

El was practically jumping up and down. "I've heard a lot about this place," she bubbled enthusiastically. "I've been wanting to come by."

Peter relished in the sight of joy glistening in his wife's eyes. Work had been stressful lately with late and often shifts. It was nice to see her so happy.

Without waiting for Peter's consent or any other form of encouragement, El started pounding loudly on the gate in the rhythm of "Jingle Bells." She was too excited to feel embarrassed but Peter looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. It was pretty suspicious when a couple were standing in front of a closed park and singing carols with their fists.

As soon as El finished with the chorus, a Santa Claus impersonator ambled out from a ticket booth stationed just past the gate. He was dressed warmly in a knitted sweater that pronounced his belly and a funny hat rested on his graying head.

"Beautifully done, Mrs. Burke," the man chuckled as he removed a ring of keys from his belt to unlock the gate. "You have a talent."

Elizabeth beamed and tugged on Peter's arm as if to say, "Look, it's Santa!"

The man rolled the gate open and beckoned the two inside. El followed obediently but Peter hesitated before taking his place protectively beside his wife. The man locked the gate after them. An empty park with a fat jolly guy locking them in alone ignited Peter's paranoia.

Peter and El paused inside the park, looking around, El basking in the sight of the gardens and inviting frozen lake and Peter looking for what might be lurking in the trees.

"It's a real honor, Agent Burke," the man enthused as he held out his hand to the agent. "Martin Watkins at your service."

Peter could only shake the beaming man's hand.

"You and Neal really helped me out. I owe you guys."

Peter scrutinized Martin, the agent in him suspecting anyone in contact with Neal. So far, the people Neal knew were all con-men – and the occasional con-woman – who could deceive just as easily as Neal.

"Why?" Peter asked suspiciously. "What did we do?"

"Oh, Neal warned me you'd ask questions. Don't worry about it. It's all in the past." Martin waved the subject away and ambled inside the ticket booth to take his place behind the glass. "Now, I believe you have some tickets for me."

Peter pulled the tickets from his pocket and glanced from them to Martin.

"Neal?" he asked as he slipped the tickets through the slit under the window.

"Neal." Martin chuckled as he accepted the tickets. "All right, Mr. and Mrs. Burke. The park is all yours. Your skates are at the first table."

Peter couldn't suppress the smile that curled up his lips as El led him away to a table laden with snacks and warm drinks where two pairs of ice skates leaned against the stone chairs. Neal had done all of this for them, for Peter.

Neal had given him a Christmas with his wife: the only gift he wanted.

But what was Neal doing? Peter and Elizabeth were really his only company besides June and Mozzie. Jones and Diana were probably spending their own holidays with family as most likely was June. And Neal didn't like to intrude on families.

In fact, Peter and El were probably the closest thing to a family Neal had. And if they were here, what was Neal going to do with his free day? Hopefully stay out of trouble. But still…

Before Peter could think more on the subject, Elizabeth pushed him into one of the chairs and commanded him to put on his pair of skates. Then she busily started putting hers on.

Peter picked up the left skate and looked inside. It was his size. Of course it was.

**._._._._._._.**

**Sorry I took longer than usual to post. I went camping to Big Bear for New Years. No computer with internet up there. **

**And it's still technically winter so this story can still be posted. Though it is going on a lot longer than I previously anticipated. But I'm not getting any complaints, so I guess it's all ok. **

**A lot of you commented on my "Assassin's Creed" blurb. That's cool. I mean really cool. It's an awesome game and I encourage others to play it, unless, you know, you don't like plunging a knife into someone's back. The first game is old so it's pretty cheap compared to the newest installment of the series. It is a little repetitive but still good. And you bromance lovers can find a bromance between Altair (the main character) and Malik (the man who hates him) as many other people have. I love watching their relationship develop. And the D.A. artwork is good too. If interested, you should check out ****Doubleleaf.**** Her art is good.**

**Well, now that that's out of the way, until next time. **

**Hobey-Ho**


	8. A Free Man

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 8:_

"The whole day off? That's pretty generous."

Neal didn't turn to face the speaker. Instead, he continued to stare out over the city. The swollen clouds blocked out most of the sun but the buildings were aglow as pale light seeped out from the windows. Far below, cars moved lazily down the street, little traffic deterring them. Families were most likely together at this point, leaving the cabs empty.

"What are you going to do?"

Neal finally turned his head to stare at the stout bald man leaning against the doorway that led out to the balcony. A glass of fizzing liquid rested in his hand and he took a sip, allowing the alcohol to warm him from the cold that he refused to step out into.

"I don't know," Neal admitted, turned to rest his back against the balcony's stone wall. His gaze drifted to the side, looking at nothing.

"Might I make a few suggestions?" Mozzie asked.

"As long as they're legal."

"Now you sound like the suit."

Neal sighed. "What?"

"This is the perfect opportunity to take care of some unfinished business, man," Mozzie enthused, moving his arms animatedly as if trying to get Neal to see the obvious.

"All my unfinished business was finished as soon as I went to jail," Neal corrected. "No one will want to finish anything with me knowing I'm part of the FBI now."

Mozzie paused in contemplation. "Oh, you can visit a few friends," he offered. "You know, mend some bridges. You might need them later."

"For what?" Neal shot back, making his friend flinch. "Moz, I don't need any bridges fixed, I don't need to reconnect with old fences, and I don't need to go around plotting and planning." Realizing, his voice had risen, Neal stopped and turned back to face the city. At least the buildings couldn't look at him judgmentally with skepticism, or hurt.

"That's all in the past."

He was an FBI consultant now. This was him, in the present. If he went around uprooting the past, he'd get into trouble. And him getting into trouble would cause trouble for Peter.

He didn't need to run or steal anymore. He couldn't. That part of him had changed. He could never go back to that part of his life. Not easily anyway. Sure he occasionally misled or deceived but he didn't steal just to participate in the sport. Now his abilities were reserved for solving cases; for being used for the better.

He was an _ex_-con. And he wasn't about to throw away everything he had worked for; everything Peter had given him, because he was given a free day to whatever he wanted. The day without an anklet was given to him out of trust. He wasn't going to tarnish that.

"I get it," Mozzie's quiet voice amended. "No illegal stuff."

Neal peeked back at Mozzie to see the little guy gazing ruefully at his drink.

He sighed. "Well maybe some illegal stuff." _For information on Kate's death._ "But I don't need any of my old 'friends.' I only need one resource."

Mozzie looked up hopefully and Neal's assuring smile made him look away again.

"So, wanna check out that exhibit?" Mozzie asked, shuffling back inside distractedly.

"Which exhibit?" Neal asked.

Mozzie turned around and gave Neal an expectant smile. "Any. You're a free man." Mozzie lifted his glass to Neal and downed its contents.

Neal chuckled with a shake of his head. He pushed off the balcony and sauntered back inside. "All right," he agreed.

"Great," Mozzie grinned as he returned his glass to the table and started bustling around, getting his coat and a hat.

"Hey, want to invite Peter?" he asked, turning to face Neal but stopping short at the sight of Neal's visible cringe. "Oh."

"Nah, he's busy right now," Neal said with a dismissive wave. But his nonchalant smile couldn't fool Mozzie.

"Nevermind then," he said instead and grabbed Neal's jacket, handing it to his friend.

Neal took it and silently slipped into it.

"Hey, this will cheer you up," Mozzie said, excited once more. "Bernard Safran's paintings are up for display at –"

"No," Neal interrupted firmly. "You can look but you can't touch."

Mozzie's face fell and he opened the door piteously. "Fine."

Neal smirked and flipped his hat onto his head. He moved out of the room and Mozzie closed the door after him before trotting down the stairs past him. Neal paused and looked back.

What if Peter came looking for him and Neal was gone?

Neal shook his head and continued down the stairs.

No, Peter, wouldn't come. He was celebrating Christmas with his family. There would be no reason for him to see Neal.

"Come on, man," Mozzie's voice issued from below.

Neal chuckled. Then again, he was kind of with his family for the holiday too.

**._._._._._._.**

**Of course Mozzie would be there to help distract Neal. The little guy knows when to bring up a topic that will interrupt sad thoughts. We saw that in the first episode of the second season when he suddenly brought up the topic of changing his name to stop Neal from thinking about Kate's death.**

**Oh, update on the game (if any of you are even interested. I tend to think you probably aren't. That's just me.) I finished it. And you know that GameFly commercial where the gamers are yelling at the television, crying, or throwing things out windows? Well, that's what I wanted to do, but it was eleven o'clock so I could only throw small, light things so as to not wake anyone else up. Yeah, the ending was crap. One big frustrating cliffhanger. Oh well. I'm hoping to get the second game for my upcoming birthday (the day after White Collar season 2.5 premieres. Happy bday to me!). Though the ending sucked, the game itself was good so I'm anticipating the next installment of the series.**

**I still encourage you play it. Just have the second game on hand so you can play that when you're done staring in disbelief at the rising credits.**

**Anywho, lovely talking to you all and if you spaced out for a bit there, I won't hold it against you. Thanks always and forever for all your comments and reviews and I'll see you most likely tomorrow, or the day after.**

**Hobey-Ho**


	9. A Christmas With You

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 9:_

"Time out, time out," Peter panted as he staggered towards the edge of the ice rink.

Elizabeth glided effortlessly to his side. "Done already?" she asked indignantly.

Already? They had been skating for at least three hours. Well, El had skated. And pretty well too. She gracefully glided and twirled and seemed to dance on the ice. Her jacket flailed behind her as she raced from side of the pond to the other and then sailed along its border. She spun around the tree and zigzagged all along the pound, spinning circles around Peter.

And Peter? Well, he had floundered most of the time. Inexperienced at ice-skating, Peter could do little more than stay in an upright position. He tried skating after Elizabeth but more times than not, he was awkwardly walking rather than gliding.

But it was still fun because even though he failed at skating miserably, El laughed and taunted, eyes sparkling happily. And then she would come up beside Peter and take hold of his arm and ease him around the pond. When he stumbled, she caught him and steadied him, laughing all the while. Then she gave him a hug and they'd try again.

If that was all that happened, Peter could have kept "skating" for longer. But the times El wasn't by his side or close at hand, were the times his feet flew out from under him and he fell to the ice, hard. Three hours of that kind of beating had taken its toll and now Peter was taking his sore and aching body off the damned pond so he could take the damned skates off.

"Sorry, honey," Peter gasped, focusing more on his goal of dry land than on the conversation. "I need a break. But you keep going."

El watched him for a moment. "Ok," she finally conceded and moved away.

Peter fell once more as he neared dry land and decided to crawl the rest of the way rather than get up and stagger and risk falling down again.

At last, he made it to the edge and plopped down into the dirt. He ripped the laces out of their knots and tore the skates off of his feet, sighing in relief. His shoes were at the table but he could wait to get them. For now, he wanted to sit, relax, and watch his wife smile.

Elizabeth caught his gaze, smiled, performed once last twirl and skated over to Peter. She next to him and took off her own skates.

"Done?" Peter asked.

She nodded. "It's no fun alone."

Peter wasn't sure why, but Neal's face popped into his head and then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"You ok?" El asked, examining Peter's face worriedly.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just a little sore is all," Peter assured her with a smile.

El kept his gaze and opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, you folks hungry yet?" another voice asked instead.

Peter and El looked up to see Martin standing behind them expectantly. A napkin was draped elegantly over one arm and that image clashed greatly with his sweater and funny hat with the ball of fluff on top.

"There's food too?" El asked excitedly.

"Of course," Martin chuckled, his stomach quivering.

El flashed Peter an eager grin and then jumped up to get her shoes, hopping quickly across the cold ground.

Peter stood slowly with an effort and followed after El with Martin.

"Neal thought of everything, didn't he?" he asked quietly, his lopsided grin already in place at the thought of his suave partner.

"Does he do anything less?" Martin countered knowingly.

"No, I suppose he doesn't," Peter chuckled. "Are there going to be any more surprises?"

"We are talking about Neal, right?"

Peter and Martin exchanged a loaded look and a shared smile, and then Peter moved past him to retrieve his shoes.

When they were ready, El and Peter followed Martin to a gazebo covered in unlit lights. A table rested under the open roof. A bottle of champagne and two glasses waited in the middle of the table and dishes of covered food circled around them. Two plates complete with several utensils were set before two chairs set side by side so that those sitting there could see the tree in the middle of the pond.

Martin courteously pulled out the chair for Elizabeth as Peter took his own seat.

"Dinner for the Lord and Lady," Martin said dramatically in a deep and formal voice. He lifted the lids off of the dishes one by one to reveal fresh bread and vegetables still steaming and the main course of a sliced turkey already split into light and dark meat.

"Bon appetite," Martin said with an accent and was about to turn away.

"Martin?" Peter called, making the man turn. "It's getting dark. Can we get some light please?"

"Why of course, sir."

Without another word, Martin walked away and disappeared around the tree towards the front gate.

Peter sat looking after him, waiting for him to return with a candle or something.

What came instead was much better than a candle.

The gazebo suddenly came to life as the lights wrapped around it blinked on, white light spilling down onto the table and the two that sat there. Lights flickered on around the gazebo as well, lighting up the garden that surrounded the spot and illuminating the small path that led to it.

And then the tree exploded into color. Twinkling lights coated the tree from top to bottom, winding down to splay against the ground. Tinsel sparkled and the ornaments practically glowed. A large star on top burst with light, casting a halo around the tree and making the ice of the pond glitter.

Elizabeth gasped and covered her mouth as the food was completely forgotten due to the latest installment of Neal's gift. Peter too had trouble looking away from the magnificent display of color.

"Neal did all of this," he heard El whisper. He turned to look at her and her shimmering eyes were locked with his. "For us?"

Peter smiled and took Elizabeth's hand in his. "His gift to me," he explained. "A Christmas with you." Water glittered in El's eyes, matching that of the frozen pond.

And, as if on cue, it started to snow. Tiny specks of soft white flittered down from the sky to touch the earth with their cold kiss. El and Peter gazed up as the snow drifted down and then they both looked at the other, a synchronized decision forming between them.

"Call Neal," Elizabeth said gently. "He should be here with us."

Peter wordlessly brought out his phone and dialed the only member of the family who was missing.

**._._._._._._.**

**I'm trying to post a chapter everyday so that I can get this fic done. It just doesn't feel right posting a Christmas story in January. But thanks to all of you that assure me that it's fine and to keep going. I appreciate it greatly.**

**A romantic dinner like that with a view of such a tree. If only we had a place like that here. But then we'd all need a Neal to privatize it for us. Perhaps in a dream…**

**I've noticed you like my Assassin's Creed talk. Well, some of you. And, truth be told, I like talking to you about random stuff in my life. Because then you leave a review that can lead to further discussions and then I get to meet and learn about and talk with a new person; a new friend. I like getting to know my readers. I like getting to know new people. **

**So, let's start a different topic. Hmm… We could talk about video games, movies, school life, books, tv shows… the list is endless. **

**I recently became a huge fan of the show "How I Met Your Mother." Know it? I think it's hysterical and the perfect ending to a long day. It feels good to laugh so much and the characters are adorable. Jason Segal stars in it as Marshall and I fell in love with him in the movie "I Love You, Man." Then again, I am a bromance sucker. And Marshall's wife, Lily, is this cute, feisty thing who can go from immature to psychotic in seconds. And Neil Patrick Harris from "Malcom in the Middle" plays a perverted guy who lives to be awesome. I love the show.**

**Well, I have done it. I have start a topic and it is legen – …wait for it… – dary! Feel free to add your own opinions of the show or, heck, start your own topic if you're just looking for someone to talk to. I'm always willing to listen. **

**Thanks always and forever guys. I've said it before and I'll say it again. You guys making writing worthwhile. **

**Hobey-Ho**


	10. The Perfect Gift

**This is the last chapter guys. Enjoy and thanks for all you've done and given me.**

The Perfect Gift

_Chapter 10:_

Neal's phone buzzed in his pocket, earning him a glare from Mozzie and a few other people who had decided to spend their Christmas looking at art.

"Sorry," Neal mouthed as he brought out his phone and hurried over to a corner where he wouldn't disturb anyone.

He looked at his phone to see that he had a new text message. From Peter.

Anxious, Neal opened the message. There was a picture of a tree aglow with lights and decorations. The picture didn't do the image justice. Neal knew the tree and how it looked when all of the lights were turned on.

Under the picture was the text.

_Come and join us._

"Come on, Neal," Mozzie urged as he came over. "I want to see the Robert Lehman collection." Mozzie paused as he saw the look on Neal's face. "Neal?"

Neal stood absolutely still, his eyes locked on the message on the phone he clutched tightly in his hand. And a beaming grin was on his face. It was the first time Mozzie had seen him genuinely smile all day.

Curious, Mozzie peeked at the message and his own smile curved his lips up. "Ah."

Realizing he wasn't alone, Neal blinked and looked at Mozzie and his expression that proved he had seen the message.

"Moz," Neal started, his smile fading just slightly with apology.

Mozzie held up his hand. "No need. Go on."

Neal's smile returned two-fold and he gripped Mozzie's shoulder, the closest thing to a hug the man was willing to accept from another man. "Thanks, Moz," Neal said sincerely and then dashed out of the room.

Mozzie watched his friend go to join his family. Now it was just him and a museum of strangers and art.

"Excuse me," a new voice called.

Mozzie turned to see a woman holding an open map of the museum. She was a small thing, not much taller than Mozzie, wrapped in a long coat with a scarf fashionably loose around her neck. She had a cute face too, with a petite nose and lips and eyes the color of freshly cut wheat.

The woman glanced at the map, at the room around her, and then at Mozzie with a look of complete hopelessness. "I think I'm lost," she said, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear embarrassedly. "I'm looking for the Robert Lehman collection."

"What an excellent taste in art you have," Mozzie said formally. "In fact I was headed that way myself. Care to join me?"

"Oh, thank you," the woman sighed in relief. "I'm glad someone finally knew where it was."

Mozzie started forward, the woman falling into step beside him. "Why didn't you ask a security guard?" he asked.

"No thank you," the woman griped sourly. "Those wannabe police officers wouldn't know a Lehman from a Gossart."

Mozzie blinked at the woman and then smiled with an anxious fidget of his hands.

"Oh, excuse my manners, my name is Tina." Tina smiled warmly. "Tina Ruset."

"Simon Baker," Mozzie answered and then hurriedly added, "but you can call me Mozzie."

Tina looked at him oddly and the laughed sweetly. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"You too." Mozzie looked down at his wringing hands and then back at Tina. "So, what's your favorite Lehman?"

oOoOo

Martin opened the gate, smiling to himself as Neal trotted past him and into the park. He didn't need to point out where the Burkes where. By now, the sun was setting, though it was already dark due to the clouds. A thin layer of snow covered the ground as the flakes increased their downpour, falling thick and heavy. Luckily no wind disrupted their quiet journey down.

Neal knew exactly where to go. All he had to do was go towards the only gazebo that was lit. And sure enough, he saw two figures sitting at the table.

Neal quickly covered the distance to the table and soon stood panting lightly before it.

"Neal," Elizabeth welcomed as she stood to go to the young man and wrap him in a hug. "Merry Christmas, sweety."

Neal hugged her back. "Merry Christmas, El."

"We didn't interrupt you from anything, did we?" Peter asked.

Neal turned to him to see that his partner had stood up as well to stand beside him. Neal gave him a fierce grin. "Not at all."

They traded a handshake and a pat on the back from Peter led him to a third chair that had been brought out for him. Together the three sat and started piling the food El and Peter had decided to save until Neal came onto their plates.

"Are you sure you want to spend the last hours of you freedom here with us?" Peter asked jokingly.

Neal looked up from his plate to look at Peter and then at Elizabeth. They both looked back at him, smiling warmly. He took note of the snow falling around them and the few flakes that slipped through the open roof to melt against the heat the lights produced; of the tree that washed his back in color.

And then the empty feeling he had felt earlier vanished, just like that. He didn't feel lonely anymore. He was where he belonged. He was with his family.

"I can't think of any other place I'd rather be."

**._._._._._._.**

**Yep, that's it. It's over. I'm glad I was able to end the story with ten chapters. Ten's a nice even number. I like even numbers. **

**And forgive me if Tina seems like a Mary-Sue but I had to give Mozzie some company while Neal was gone. And, Mozzie being his usual paranoid self when it comes to strangers, Simon Baker is just another one of his aliases. **

**And Neal is finally with his family for the holiday. Happy ending had by all. **

**Thanks to you all for reading, faving, alerting, and reviewing. They made my holiday, and the days after. I've enjoyed talking to you. Safety and Peace be upon you.**

**Hobey-Ho **


End file.
